A Great Beauty

by A. O'Connor

  “It would be impossible for you to wage another war like you did the last one, Michael,” warned John. “Nobody knew what you looked like before – now everyone in the world knows. You’d be a sitting target.”

  “What of your meeting yesterday – with Lloyd George at Philip’s house? Did you sense anything else about the lie of the land?” asked Hazel.

  “No – he said the same thing – just not in such stark terms as today,” said Michael.

  “They’ve lost their patience,” said John.

  “They’ve lost their patience – what about me? What about my fucking patience!” He exploded in anger.

  “Perhaps if I spoke to Winston or Philip, I might be able to find out more,” said Hazel.

  “There isn’t time,” snapped Michael.

  “And I doubt they would have anything else to say,” she admitted. “As horrible as it is for me to say, Michael, I believe this is it! I think you either sign their damned treaty or sink Ireland into another war which will make the last one look like child’s play.”

  “But I can’t. It won’t be accepted back home – they want full independence. I can’t go back and say I haven’t signed up to that and they are still subjects of the King and have to swear an oath of allegiance. Or that I have signed away the jurisdiction of the North to Belfast.”

  He slumped down on the couch and his extreme anger crumpled as he sank his face into his hands. Hazel went and sat beside him. She nodded at John who, heeding the request, got up. Putting a parting comforting hand on Michael’s shoulder, he left them alone.

  “Michael – Michael – look at me,” Hazel said, taking his hands and forcing his tear-filled eyes to look at her. “I don’t see how you have a choice in this matter anymore. If you don’t sign the treaty you will be plunging Ireland back into years of bloodshed. The Irish people don’t want that and are unable to fight it. You have said yourself that your resources, your arms are very low. If the full might of the British army comes down on you, then you will be crushed in days and the country will be under military dictatorship for years to come. This way – if you sign the treaty – well, it’s not perfect, but it’s a start. Ireland will have power over its own affairs and be somewhat autonomous – something it has not had and has fought for down the centuries. Take what is on offer now and you can take the rest later. Ireland will gain full independence in time – in the meantime take this offer. You will be hailed a hero in Dublin for avoiding any more bloodshed and war.”

  He shook his head and said mournfully, “Why have I been left with this decision?”

  She took his face in her hands and spoke with determination. “Because you are a great man and maybe the only one capable of making this decision – the right decision.”

  The day passed slowly by. John mostly left Hazel and Michael alone, coming occasionally to the door of the drawing room to listen and try to get a sense of what was occurring inside. Sometimes he heard long stretches of silence. Other times Michael could be heard shouting and Hazel trying to calm him down. At times there was even sobbing coming from the room.

  John spent most of the time in his studio, working on his next portrait.

  “Sir, my lady has requested that you should go to the drawing room,” said Gordon.

  John quickly put down his brush and left the studio.

  When he entered the drawing room, he saw Michael standing at the fireplace, his head hung. Hazel, meanwhile, had changed into an elaborate gown and was wearing her best coat.

  “Dare I ask – has a decision been made?” asked John.

  “Michael, after much soul-searching, has decided to accept the final proposal from Lloyd George.”

  “I see,” said John, walking over to Michael and placing a hand on his shoulder “This is brave deed.”

  “I have decided to … give in,” Michael said the words sadly.

  “Not ‘give in’, Michael! Compromise!” said Hazel. “You have decided to compromise which is what negotiating is all about.”

  “There hasn’t been much compromising from the British during these ‘negotiations’,” said Michael.

  “When one person is holding a gun to your head, then perhaps they are in the stronger negotiating position,” said John, trying to keep as much kindness in his voice as possible.

  “Well – we must go! We don’t have much time to lose,” said Hazel, hastily putting on her gloves.

  “Go? Go where?” asked John.

  “Downing Street, of course! Via Hans Place – for Michael to tell the other delegates of his decision first. I shall drive him.”

  “You! But it’s getting late, Hazel. Did Michael’s driver not come with him here?”

  “Yes, they’re sitting outside being watched by Scotland Yard as we speak, no doubt! They can follow us in their automobile. Come along, Michael. That deadline is looming! We don’t want war to be declared by accident because we got delayed in traffic!”

  She sashayed towards the door and Michael followed.

  In the hall below, John took Hazel’s arm and pulled her aside.

  “Hazel, don’t you think the people he should have been discussing this with are the other delegates in Hans Place?”

  “He has been discussing it with them until he is blue in the face! They could not reach a decision. They can no longer see the wood from the trees. That is why he came to me – to get some clear concise advice.”

  “I hope you do not get the blame if all this turns sour, as I imagine – Ireland being Ireland – it most likely will!”

  “Don’t fret, John, I know what I’m doing,” she said, leaning towards him and kissing his cheek. “I won’t be long – but don’t wait up, just in case.”

  As Hazel quickly made her way with Michael out to her car, she felt elated and excited. Yes, peace was coming to Ireland, finally, after all this time. And she was going to Downing Street to be part of this historic event. But, most of all, as she sat beside Michael in her automobile, she felt elated that he was still in her life. That she had not frightened him away. And that it had been her he had turned to in his most desperate hour. In the hour when he needed somebody to trust, he had turned to her.

  CHAPTER 56

  Th doorbell shrilled through 5 Cromwell Place.

  “Good Lord – who is that at this unearthly hour?” said John, sitting up in bed. “What time is it?”

  Hazel quickly looked at her watch and saw it was five thirty in the morning. She was filled with panic and fear that something had got wrong with the treaty. Had Michael and the others backed out at the last minute? Had war in fact been declared? Was this the army come to arrest her and John? She jumped out of bed and tied her silk dressing gown around her. Not waiting for John, she scurried from the bedroom, down the corridor and down the stairs.

  She could hear voices down in the hallway.

  “Who is it, Gordon?” she called out.

  “It’s Mr. Collins, my lady,” answered an exhausted Gordon, thinking that if he worked as the head doorman at Claridge’s Hotel he would not have seen as much traffic as he had answering the door at 5 Cromwell Place over the past few weeks.

  “Michael!” she gasped.

  He had stepped into the hall and stood there, looking dejected.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “It’s signed, Hazel, I signed the wretched thing,” he whispered.

  “And the others?”

  “They signed – they all signed.”

  “Tea, my lady?” asked Gordon through bleary eyes.

  “No – no – you go back to bed, Gordon.”

  “As you wish, my lady,” said Gordon as he shuffled off to bed.

  “Oh Michael!” Hazel said, embracing him.

  As John came down the stairs, he saw Hazel and Michael, their arms wrapped around each other as she comforted him. His mouth opened to say something, but instead he closed it again and retreated back upstairs.

  The hours slipped by in the drawing room at 5 Cromwell Place
as Michael recounted everything that had happened at Downing Street.

  “I’m sure it is a huge relief to Winston, Lloyd George and the others,” said Hazel.

  “Not all of them,” sighed Michael. “Birkenhead said that he had probably just signed his political death warrant … and I replied that I had probably just signed my actual death warrant.”

  Hazel recoiled in horror. “Michael! Do not say such a thing!”

  “Why not? It’s probably true … there will be people in Ireland who will never accept this and who will they blame? Me!”

  “But the majority, Michael, the majority will applaud and thank you for it. The troops in Dublin will be off the streets today – when only yesterday they were on a war footing.”

  “I should never have come to London. I should never have been sent and I should have refused to come and bugger the consequences! I am not a politician, I am a soldier – and this was a job for a politician.”

  “You might not have been a politician, but you are certainly one now. And you must now rely on all your political skills to get this treaty accepted at home and passed by the Dublin government.”

  He looked into her eyes. “The only reason I am glad I came to London is because otherwise I would never have met you.”

  She blinked a few times. “Don’t tease me, Michael. Although I daresay I deserve it after the number of men I have teased over the years. But if you think anything of me, then don’t tease me. Not after the last few days I’ve had. I thought you would never speak to me again after I … said what I said. I went through such pain, thinking I had offended you.”

  “Offended me? How could you ever think I was offended? I was flattered and humbled that a woman as beautiful and elegant and wise as you could consider me anything other than a country hick over to the big city making a big fool of himself!”

  She reached forward and pushed back a lock of his hair from his forehead. “It’s I who made a fool of myself – allowing myself to fall for somebody – somebody unobtainable. But now I have accepted there can be nothing between us and I am happy with my love for you … unrequited love is the best kind of love, because you don’t expect anything in return.”

  They stared at each other and only the sound of the door opening broke their gaze as Hazel quickly sat back.

  “I thought it might be you, Michael,” said John, coming in. “You look shattered, you poor chap.”

  “I am fairly shattered, John. It’s been one hell of a night.”

  Hazel stood up and tightened the belt of her dressing gown around her. “I must change. Goodness me – I am now receiving guests in night attire – whatever next!” She went over to the bell-pull and tugged it. “You need to rest for a few hours, Michael. I’ll have Gordon run a bath for you and after you need some sleep. Later we’ll have something to eat.”

  “Thank you, Hazel – thank you both!” he said and managed to smile at them.

  “I can’t believe you are going back home tomorrow,” said Hazel.

  It was evening time and she was walking Michael down the stairs to the front door. He was going back to Cadogan Gardens to spend the night before returning with the rest of the delegation to Dublin the next day.

  “It will be very strange to think you aren’t just up the road from me to drop in to whenever I want,” he said.

  “Kitty will be glad to have you home,” she said.

  “Yes. She’s not one for this political world though. She gets bored if I talk too much about it.”

  “Wise girl!” said Hazel with a smile.

  He looked around the spacious ornate hallway. “When we first came to London you said you wanted us to treat your house as a home from home. Well, that’s exactly what it became for me. A home. And I’ve haven’t had a home for a very long time. Fighting the war, sleeping in a different place each night. I’d forgotten what a home felt like – but I know now it feels like here.”

  “I’m very touched that you think that,” she said.

  “I don’t even have a home to go back to in Dublin. I’ll be living life on the go again – more hotel rooms – though thankfully not in a war situation.”

  “Thanks to you! Our home is your home, Michael, you will always be welcome here … although I daresay you will have your own home soon once you marry Kitty.”

  He thought it odd she was mentioning Kitty so much. She had never mentioned Kitty much before – now it was as if she was bringing the curtain down on their liaison and reminding herself he was engaged.

  “Will you write to me?” she asked.

  He gave a big laugh. “All the time! Lady Lavery, I will need you to be my eyes and ears in London. You will be like my ambassador – the only one I can trust over here.”

  She wasn’t sure if his words were hollow, but it gave her a great sense of relief to hear them – that she wouldn’t be seeing the last of him.

  They reached the door and he embraced her and hugged her tightly. She kissed his cheek and, when he pulled away, opened the door.

  He stepped out into the evening.

  She closed the door, bolted it and walked down the large empty hallway feeling lost and alone.

  CHAPTER 57

  In the days after the Anglo-Irish Treaty was signed and Michael left London, Hazel felt a wave of sadness envelop her. She had been so busy over the previous months, being at the heart of the Irish delegation and the treaty negotiations, that now it was over she felt somewhat empty. But she knew what she missed most was Michael. It was as if there was a big hole in her life now that he was no longer there. She remembered his parting words to her, that he would be relying on her all the more now that he wasn’t in London, but she wondered how true that was. He would return to his life in Ireland and would soon be married to Kitty and she would just be a distant memory to him. She understood that she must return to her life too, as painful as that might be. But she couldn’t allow herself to fall into a depression. She wondered if she would ever hear from Michael or see him again.

  It would soon be Christmas and she was being inundated with invitations as the party season began. She sat at her writing desk in her sitting room, looking at the stack of envelopes sitting in front of her ready to be opened and read. Sighing, she took them up and began to sift through them. She suddenly stopped when she recognised the handwriting on the front of one of the envelopes as Michael’s and saw the postmark was Dublin.

  Her hands began to slightly shake as she held the envelope and then she ripped it open and unfolded the letter inside.

  The Gresham Hotel

  Sackville Street

  Dublin

  Dearest Hazel,

  So, I have arrived ‘home’. Home for now being the Gresham Hotel. Even though it’s been only a few short days since I left London, it seems an eternity since I was there and with you. After I left you that last day in London, I returned to Cadogan Place and we all packed to return home. Well, Hazel, you should have seen the crowds that were there to wave us off from Euston Station. It made the welcoming reception when we arrived in October look small! It gladdened my heart to see the goodwill from the people and the support for the treaty we had just signed. I can confide only to you how uncertain I felt travelling back to Ireland, fearing the reaction in Dublin would be nothing so great as the one we left in London.

  When we arrived in Dublin, at Kingstown Harbour, there was a military welcome for us from our men. It raised my spirits to see them and when I asked one of my lieutenants if he supported the Treaty, he told me that if it was good enough for Mick Collins then it was good enough for him! Such loyalty from the men as I saluted them that day in Kingstown. If the Treaty had failed and there had been a return to war, it would have been these men whose lives would have been on the line fighting the British Auxiliaries. We travelled into Dublin and that was when the mood turned uglier. I quickly gathered that a great many people did not support the Treaty.

  I met with De Valera that night and he was devastated. He sat with his face in
his hands, saying we should have never accepted the terms and he could not accept the Treaty and would be strongly opposed to it being ratified through the Dublin parliament. Oh, Hazel, when I heard that my heart sank. The next day, as I’m sure you know, De Valera released a statement to the press strongly rejecting the Treaty and urging the people to do the same. Since then, I have been fighting tooth and nail to get support of as many deputies in the Dublin government as possible to ratify the Treaty in order for it to be accepted.

  The main debate and vote will take place after Christmas, in January. You must tell Churchill not to despair. I am confident I will get the Treaty passed. He or the British government must not do or say anything at this stage to inflame Irish passions. Make him aware, Hazel, as only you can, what a delicate situation we are in. I and the other signees of the Treaty now rely on Lloyd George and Churchill to step back and trust us to pass the Treaty at home. It is a very delicate situation with even whispers that the end result could be civil war here. Pray it is not so.

  I wish you were here with me, Hazel. I miss our time together. I miss the support and love you always gave me. I am staying at the Gresham Hotel for now, occasionally staying with friends for a night. I miss the comradeship of everyone at the house at Cadogan Gardens and I miss being able to go up to you whenever I could.

  I haven’t had time to even visit Kitty in Longford and I will not have the time to get down over Christmas either as we prepare to debate the Treaty in January. As I look around my hotel room, I’m still waiting to have my ‘home’ – the nearest I’ve ever had being still your home.

  With fondest love and best wishes,

  Michael

  As Hazel read and reread the letter, she was overcome with emotion and wished as much as he did that she was beside him to encourage him and keep him strong during this difficult time. She quickly grabbed a sheet of paper and a fountain pen and began to write back to him.